


un muerto caminando

by ciiervo



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, M/M, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 21:03:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciiervo/pseuds/ciiervo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I found Night Vale in an article. I knew it was ridiculous, but they needed people willing to work with radiation, and I thought, 'who'd be better for that than a terminal cancer patient', huh?"</i>
</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Carlos is given two months to live, and he decides to spend the remainder of his life studying Night Vale. Night Vale decides that two months isn't long enough. (Loosely based on the character Rose from "LOST").</p>
            </blockquote>





	un muerto caminando

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic posted on Ao3, oh boy! Also my first Night Vale fic. All translations are at the end!

The miracle of Night Vale appears to Carlos on his death bed.

Not exactly his death _bed_ , persay. After his final round of chemotherapy, his entire apartment became his hospital room. Two months, Dr. Equihua had said, and sent him home with painkillers and his condolences. His sisters wanted to hire him a nurse, or at least let one of them (or all of them, if they had their way), stay with him, but Carlos shrugged off their concerns. He didn't want to burden anyone.

He's heard of Night Vale a few times before. His colleagues called it "the town that shouldn't exist", a scientific anomaly that didn't appear on any map or radar. He was flipping through the latest _Journal of Geophysical Research_ when the article's title popped up: 'The Meteorological Conditions of Night Vale'. In comparison to others he had read, the study was brief, and in the footnotes he saw that the author could not complete his seismology report on the area. He wished to do so, if the time and interest arose. He also noted that the high radiation levels and peculiar biology of the town and surrounding areas made prolonged exposure extremely dangerous, and therefore it was difficult to find willing colleagues for the project.

What was a little more radiation?  
  
\--  
  
It wasn't until he arrived in Night Vale that Carlos fully understood what everyone had meant. Night Vale presented a challenge unlike anything he'd ever witnessed: 'Big Brother' gone citywide, with a dash of insanity to make it all even more confusing. He could hardly wait to see the seismographs from this place.

As he prepared to go over to the lab one morning, he turned on the tiny little radio on his bedside table. He wasn't sure when he bought one, but it was there all the same. He was buttoning his shirt when he heard the radio announcer say: "why his perfect and beautiful haircut?" Carlos froze, waiting until the broadcast moved on (something about helicopters and their meanings) to keep getting dressed, which was more difficult now with his shaking hands.

"His hair is perfect, and we all hate and despair and love that perfect hair in equal measure."

Carlos dropped his brush, ignoring the loud clatter of plastic hitting the hardwood flooring. _How...Why..._ He bit his lip, trying desperately to fight back tears and pull himself together. _Who is this man, and why is he mocking me?_

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Carlos bent down to grab his brush. After swiping the tears away on the back on his hand, he slipped on his wig and hurried to his car.

\--

"And what do ya need today, Mr. Scientist?"

The barber's face split in a huge grin when he spotted Carlos coming into the shop. Carlos stopped, turning behind him to see who Telly was addressing."Me?" He pointed to himself, stepping forward to the counter. "My last name isn't _actually_ 'Scientist', you know, it's-"

"Oh, what does it matter?" Telly dismissed him and walked to one of his barber's chairs, straightening brushes and pulling out his favorite shears. "What kinda style are ya goin' for?"

Carlos took a step back, holding his hands up. "No, I'm n-not here for a haircut." Telly's face fell, but he listened as Carlos continued. "It's my head, it's been really itchy lately, and I didn't know if you sold any sort of shampoo for that?"

"Hmm..." Telly leaned against the chair, making Carlos shift uncomfortable beneath his unerring gaze. "Well, it might just be all that extra sweatin' you must be doin'. This is a desert, ya know." Without warning, he grabbed Carlos by the shoulders and steered him towards the chair. "I've got some stuff that promotes moisture in yer scalp. It's in the back, I can run and get if for ya if ya wait right here."

Carlos tried to pull away from him, but the scientist (like his entire family) barely stood over five feet, and a life devoted to chemistry didn't do much for his physique. He plopped down into the leather chair.

And he didn't remember the rest.

When he woke up, he had returned to the small apartment adjoining his lab, his head fuzzy and still itchy. He sat up in his bed, scratching madly at his scalp while he tried to piece together what had happened. Where was his-

There it was. On the floor, a mop of black synthetic hair, next to his slippers. He snatched it up and almost dropped it in surprise. 

The wig was missing at least four inches.

"No!" He leapt to his feet and ran to the mirror, quickly pulling the wig on to assess the damage. He looked like a shorn sheep, practically a different person. And it wasn't going to grow back...

How was he going to pull this one off?

\--

The new wig arrived a month later. He put it on his shelf as motivation; _if I live another six or seven months, I can switch wigs._

\--

After three months of living in Night Vale, he noticed that he felt absolutely fine. Something in the water, perhaps, or something in the air, but he didn't feel like the shell of a man he had before. He wanted to shout, to call his family and tell them to stop worrying, that he was going to live after all.

But Carlos valued logic over all else. He knew it was far too early to get excited. Maybe something in Night Vale kept him alive, but he shouldn't get his hopes up. Regardless, he didn't hold back tears when he woke up with a soft fuzz of hair on his head. 

This time, they were tears of joy.

\--

When he hit the four month mark, he went to Big Rico's and ordered an entire pizza on a whim. Rico lifted an eyebrow and asked, with his cheerful, booming voice, "what's the occasion, Mr. Scientist?"

Carlos shrugged, laying sheets of napkins on his pizza to soak up the excess formaldehyde (the first time that he suggested that it should probably be grease, Rico had stared at him and said he was being ridiculous).

"I'm not dead," he answered, taking a bite. Rico chuckled, shook his head, and moved on to the next customer.

\--

He switched wigs a couple months later, hoping that Cecil would be too excited at the return of his "stunning coif" to notice that his "hair" had grown four inches overnight.

Judging by the amount of gleeful squeaking in that week's broadcast, Cecil hadn't noticed at all.

\--

An entire year passed.

He almost died in the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Fun Complex. He went on his first date with Cecil. He fell in love.

Not exactly in that order, but that doesn't matter.

\--

"Leave? But why? Where are you going? Are you-"

"Cecil, please calm down." Carlos stopped packing a moment to put his hands on Cecil's shoulders, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm only leaving for a week. Then I'll be back, okay?"

"But _why?_ " Cecil whined, plopping down on the edge of the bed. "Leaving Night Vale is dangerous...if the City Council finds out..."

"They already did, Ceece." Carlos pulled a stack of papers from under his pillow and handed them to the fretful radio host. "All the forms, right there. Everything's in order, and I even left them under my pillow, like Officer Elliot told me too."

"Don't forgot to leave one of your teeth, too!" Based on the echo, the voice was coming from Carlos' kitchen.

"Okay, officer!" Carlos shouted back. "There's some gluten-free fettucini in the refrigerator!"

After they heard the beep of the microwave and the front door close, Carlos turned back to Cecil. "Look, I just have something I've got to take care of." He closed his suitcase and gave Cecil a smile, but his boyfriend clearly remained unconvinced. 

Carlos sat down next to him, wrapping an arm around shoulders and pulling him close. "Cecil, _mi tórtola_ , please...I have to go, I'll be back soon, alright?"

Cecil blushed, as he always did when he used that nickname. "Fine," Cecil murmured, refusing to meet Carlos' eyes. His tail wrapped lightly around the other man's wrist. "Just...be careful, okay?"

Carlos grinned, lifting his other hand to cup Cecil's jaw and pull him into a quick, soft kiss. He stood, grabbed his suitcase, and hurried out the door. If he stayed another moment, his calm façade would fall.

He let the tears fall once he was in the car, racing down the highway as fast as he could go (55 miles per hour, according to the City Council). He didn't _know_ what would happen when he left Night Vale. He'd lived, yes, but could he live outside of town? What if he passed over the city limits and died? What if leaving caused his body to begin it's  
self-destruction once more?

With his heart pounding against his ribs, he pressed down on the gas and crossed the line.

\--

The 2500 mile flight was worth it, just to see the look on Dr. Equihua's face.

"...Carlos?" The other man stood in the doorway, staring at him as if he'd seen a ghost. Carlos kept a chuckle to himself at that thought while the doctor bent to pick up Carlos' file, which he'd dropped upon seeing him alive and seemingly well.

" _El mismo_ ," Carlos answered, fidgeting on the examination table under the harsh gaze. "It's been a while, huh?"

"A while? _Dios mío_ , it's been almost a year and...and you're..."

"Not dead?" Carlos looked up at him, and Dr. Equihua froze, unsure of what to say. Before he could say something, Carlos spoke again. "Just...I know I've got explaining to do, but I can't do it right now. I need to leave as soon as I can, but I need a PET. I already set it up with your secretary. I haven't eaten or taken anything, so we can do it today."

"I...okay," Dr. Equihua nodded, putting Carlos' file on the table and leaving the room. He came back with a tray, his eyes glassed over and confused. 

"Hey, Doctor..." When Dr. Equihua didn't respond, he sighed. The doctor's hands were shaking, which isn't the best thing when preparing to inject a radiotracer. He tried to get his attention again.

"Miguel." 

Dr. Equihua stopped and turned to him. He was still shaking, and he looked terrified Carlos leaned forward, putting a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "Hey, it's fine. I'm fine. _Mírame._ "

Their eyes met, and Miguel pulled away, going back to his work. "I _see_ you, but I can't _believe_ it. You're not supposed... _estás muerto!_ "

"Sorry to disappoint," Carlos muttered, idly ripping the paper on the examination table.

"No, I... _chingada madre_ , Carlos..." Miguel put the syringe down and braced his arms against the counter. "You know that's not what I meant. What am I supposed to say?" He glared at Carlos, betrayal evident on his face. "We all offered to help you, and you just disappeared without a trace! And now you're alive?"

Carlos sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know it's odd. I just need this test done, and then I've got to get home. I don't know how long I've got, just...do this for me, and I promise to keep in touch. Alright?"

Miguel gave it a moment of thought, but he nodded, picking up the syringe and a cotton ball. "Fine, but you've got a lot to tell me, _Carlitos_."

\--

He was sitting in his hotel room when he got the call, suitcase packed and sitting by the door. The hotel lamp plummeted to the ground in his mad scramble for his phone, not bothering to check the caller I.D. before picking it up.

" _Bueno?_ "

" _Nada._ "

Carlos would have dropped the phone, had he not been frozen to the spot. "I... _qué_?"

"Nothing. _Nada. Estás limpio_!" Miguel sounded incredulous, but excitement creeped into his voice. "There's absoletely nothing! I just don't understand...how'd you do it?"

Carlos didn't hear him; by the time the question was spoken, his phone was in his pocket and he was halfway down the hotel hallway.

\--

He felt tension leave him in waves as he crossed over the Night Vale city limits. His radio stuttered to life, playing a soft song Carlos had never heard. A quick glance outside told him the song must be the weather; the moon was high in the sky, the sky a dark, comforting green, and blue helicopters circled the outskirts of town.

The song came to an end; a little static as a mic was fumbled with, and then Cecil's voice slipped through his speakers: "listeners, I have received the most _wonderful_ news! Carlos has returned, safe and sound, to our quiet little town! I do not know where he went, or why, but I am most happy that he is alive and well. Also, the City Council would like to remind everyone..."

Carlos tuned out the rest of the show. His face hurt from the intensity of his smile, which had appeared when he heard Cecil's voice and remained until he reached his lab. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text:

\- _To Cecil [9:25:32]: meet me in the Arby's parking lot after the show?_ \- 

He sat his suitcase next to the bed, grabbed a box, and was back in his truck before he got a response. When he reached the Arby's, he pulled his phone out again.

\- _From Cecil [9:30:05] of course!! c:_ \- 

Carlos felt his smile returning, reaching from ear to ear. He grabbed the box from the passenger seat and went outside. Sitting on the hood of his car, he tapped nervous fingers on his thighs and stared up into the never-ending void.

\--

"Carlos!"

The man in question looked down from the sky to see Cecil ambling up the sidewalk. He hopped down, placing the box on the hood, and took only a step before Cecil was on him, crushing him with the strongest hug Carlos had ever received. He stumbled backward, his back hitting the edge of his truck, but he didn't care. He wrapped his arms around Cecil, pressing his face into the other man's neck to hid his blushing (but it wasn't _that_ bad, really, his face was just _naturally_ rosy...).

"Carlos, I missed you so much and I didn't know if you were going to come back or if you were okay because the Sheriff's Secret Police don't have any authority outside of Night Vale and if they're not watching you how can I know you're safe and what-"

"Cecil."

The radio host stopped talking immediately, staring at Carlos and waiting obediently for him to speak. Carlos swallowed the lump in his throat and leapt back onto the hood of his car, grabbing the box and patting the spot next to him. "I...I need to show you something."

Worry clouded Cecil's usually bright eyes, but he climbed up next to Carlos and waited. Carlos took the box and handed it to him. Cecil put a hand into the box. "What are they?" Cecil withdrew his hand, staring at the several white bands he'd pulled out. He ran his fingers along the small holes punched through the middle of the material. "Hey, that's you!" He pointed to the label, which read "Juanes Guiterrez, Carlos".

Carlos smiled softly; he remembered a few months prior, when he'd had to break it to Cecil that "Mr. Scientist" was not his real surname. He dipped a hand into the box and pulled one out, with a ribbon tied around it. This one was different, he knew, as his eyes scanned the date: 12/24/11.

The date of his final hospital visit.

"Remember how I told you, that outside of Night Vale, hospitals are for helping people?" When Cecil nodded, Carlos kept going, "Well, when you go to one, you get one of these." He dangled the bracelet in front of him, watching it swing back and forth in front of Cecil's rapidly moving eyes. 

"But...Carlos, there have be be a hundred of those in here!" Cecil dropped the bands back into the box like he'd been burnt, pushing the box off his lap and onto the car hood. He looked up, and Carlos felt his heart twisting uncomfortably at his boyfriend's expression. "Carlos, were you sick?"

Carlos chuckled; 'sick' was an understatement. "Yeah...yeah, I was," he answered. His hand snuck over to take Cecil's, using it as an anchor to keep himself going. "I was diagnosed with stage 2 osteosarcoma in 2009." He stopped, biting his lip; it had been over a year since he'd heard anyone say it, let alone himself.

"Bone cancer?" Cecil's voice was unnaturally high, and Carlos turned to see his eyebrows lifted in that adorable, puppy-dog way of his. "I r-read a book about diseases once, from outside. M-Municipally approved, of course. Isn't cancer bad?"

"Yeah..." Carlos nodded, slipping the bracelet on and off his wrist to keep his nervous hands occupied. "About two years ago...I went in for the results of a PET scan." He remembers his sisters at home, sitting in a circle and praying with all their hearts. All they wanted for Christmas was a clean PET scan. 

When Carlos came home, he had to deliver the news that Christmas wasn't coming, after all.

"It was bad news. Really, really bad. It spread to my lungs, and nothing we tried had stopped it. My doctor gave me two months, at most." He reached over and held Cecil's hand in both of his, turning his eyes up to the void. "I found Night Vale in an article. I knew it was ridiculous, but they needed people willing to work with radiation, and I thought, 'who'd be better for that than a terminal cancer patient', huh?"

If he'd been looking at Cecil, he'd know that the joke went unappreciated.

"I'm still alive, somehow. I...when I left, I went to my doctor. I'm completely clean." He lowered his eyes to look at Cecil, whose face couldn't seem to decide what he wanted to express. Slowly, he brought a hand up to Cecil's jaw and turned his face up to his. "When I left you, a week ago...I didn't know what would happen. I didn't know if being outside of town would kill me, or if I'd be able to come back..."

Cecil just stared at him, his eyes shining with unshed tears. He lunged forward and pressed his lips to Carlos', catching the scientist off guard; Cecil usually didn't initiate anything. Carlos wrapped his arms around the taller man and pulled him close, needing to feel Cecil there, needing to feel _alive_ , since everything else told him he _should_ be dead. One of them was crying (or maybe both of them), but Carlos was too happy to care. However, when he felt a hand slipping up into his wig, he pulled away sharply, a hand shooting up to keep his wig in place.

The box almost fell to the ground when Cecil hurried to get away from Carlos, holding his hand to his chest and looking away. Carlos knew that face; Cecil constantly worried that he bothered Carlos, and any time he found evidence of this, he acted like a puppy caught with it's head in the trash. 

"No, Cecil..." Carlos' fingers twitched. He knew what he _wanted_ to do, but he didn't know if he had the courage to pull it off. To pull _it_ off. "Cecil, I've been lying...no. I haven't lied, exactly, but I haven't told the full truth, either."

The radio host tilted his head to the side. His pupils constricted and dilated, as they always did when he was trying to figure something out. It reminded Carlos of a camera zooming in and out, trying to get the full picture. Carlos' heart skipped a beat; what if Cecil felt betrayed when he found out?

"When you go through chemotherapy, it's really rough on your body," Carlos explained. "It makes you really weak, and tired, and...and sometimes it makes you lose your hair."

"How unfortunate!" Cecil exclaimed. "It's a good thing your beautiful hair survived, huh?"

Carlos' cheeks warmed as shame welled up within him. He looked up at Cecil, wringing his hands. Slowly, he shook his head.

Cecil's pupils took over his irises. _"Oh..."_

"I...I didn't want to tell you..." He thinks back to the first time he'd heard Cecil's voice. "I don't know what happened at Telly's. I went in for shampoo and...well, you saw what happened." He can't help but grin when Cecil snarls at the mention of the treacherous barber. "I ordered a new wig, switched the two, and hoped you didn't notice."

Cecil's right pupil constricted. "Now that you mention it...your hair did grow back pretty fast." The taller man ducked his head as his cheeks reddened. "I guess I was too happy to notice."

Carlos managed a weak smile. "It's grown out, now. I just...I wanted to just take the wig off and hope you wouldn't notice...but that would feel even worse than what I've already done." He sighed, relieved to have everything out in the open. 

He hung his head, unsure of how Cecil would react. He froze when he felt a hand on his head, and looked up to see Cecil, smiling softly with his head cocked to the side and his gaze on Carlos. The hand in his wig tugged slightly.

"May I?"

Carlos nodded, and Cecil pulled the wig off. Carlos' hair pre-chemo had been wavy and a few shades lighter, but now it was dark. The strands curled wildly, managing to look unkempt no matter what Carlos tried. Gray strands mixed generously with dark brown ones, putting him at least five years past his age. He watched Cecil's expression, waiting for the disappointment.

Cecil's pupils tightened and expanded so rapidly that Carlos could almost _hear_ gears whirring in his mind. 

"...Cecil?"

The radio host's blinked, eyes back to normal. Then he brought both his hands up to wind his fingers in Carlos' hair. Carlos' eyes widened. "You...you think it looks alright?"

"I think it looks _perfect_ ," Cecil whispered, resting their foreheads together. "And even if I didn't, you'd be perfect anyway, because you're _safe_."

Carlos' heart did backflips inside his ribcage. He grinned ear to ear and wrapped his arms around Cecil's neck. 

"No," he murmured. Cecil's eyes widened in alarm, but Carlos nuzzled his nose against the other to calm him. 

"I'm _yours._ "

**Author's Note:**

> Translations: 
> 
> \- _un muerto caminando_ : dead man walking  
> \- _mi tórtola_ : my turtledove  
> \- _el mismo_ : the same  
> \- _Dios mío_ : my gods/oh my gods  
> \- _"Mírame"_ : "Look at me."  
> \- _"estás muerto!"_ : "you're dead!"  
> \- _chingada madre_ : literally "mother fucker", in Spanish used as a general swear word  
> \- _Carlitos_ : affectionate nickname for "Carlos"  
> \- _"Bueno?"_ : literally "good", in Spanish used for answering the phone, a blessing/greeting  
> \- _"Nada."_ : exactly what you think it means.  
> \- _"...qué?"_ : "...what?"  
> \- _"estás limpio."_ : "You're clean."


End file.
